


The Drabble Aisle

by moondoor_majesty



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Artifact-induced arousal, Artifacts (Warehouse 13), Christmas Fluff, F/F, in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 10:18:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21506260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moondoor_majesty/pseuds/moondoor_majesty
Summary: A trio of unrelated Warehouse 13 femslash drabbles written for various prompts and places, some years ago.
Relationships: Claudia Donovan/Helena "H. G." Wells, Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Kudos: 17





	1. New Traditions - Myka/HG - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'Holiday Traditions' at femslash yuletide 2014.

It was still early, but Pete and Claudia would probably be up soon. Rushing to open the pile of presents underneath the tree at the B&B like a pair of kids on, well… Christmas morning. Myka, however, was perfectly content to stay in bed a while longer – what with the warm, soft, Victorian inventor currently curled up against her, using Myka’s chest as a pillow.

“We should make this a tradition,” Myka mused, running a hand through H.G.’s hair. A few pieces of tinsel from the night before were still stuck in it.

“That would imply we only get to do this once a year,” Helena toyed, peering up at her.

“An _every day_ tradition,” Myka corrected, rolling over so that she was on top, now – straddling H.G. and kissing a slow line down her neck, then up and over the rise of her breasts. Teasing her nipples into perk peaks. “A multiple-times-a-day tradition,” she added. She’d never get tired of the way H.G. arched into her with a quiet, begging moan, whenever she ran her tongue right _there_. Or the louder, more urgent sounds that escaped her when Myka’s fingers sought out a lower, wetter territory and began to draw out every little shudder and gasp she could.

Elsewhere in the B&B, there were doors opening, and footsteps padding down the stairs to the living room. Myka would join them in a moment. She just had something of her own to unravel again, first.


	2. Gallery Job - Claudia/HG - T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: #407 - 'portrait' at femslash100

The fact that the painting was hanging _right there_ in the middle of a gallery with minimal security should have made this an easy snag-and-bag.   
  
_Should_.   
  
Because, somehow, H.G. – the woman with about a hundred years’ worth of artifact experience – had wound up looking right into the damn thing’s hypnotic, watercolor eyes. And now she’s looking right into Claudia’s eyes with the sort of hunger that she usually reserves for, well, people who aren’t Claudia.  
  
H.G. also doesn’t normally press Claudia up against the canvas of another nearby work and begin kissing her in some kind of slow, hot frenzy.  
  
Not that this is a bad thing, really, because _it was H.G._ and, wow, all of those other people have been lucky as hell. And, if H.G.’s hand slides any further up Claudia’s thigh, she would have serious second thoughts about neutralizing that portrait.   
  
But she has to. Fate-of-the-world and stuff.  
  
The picture is just within her reach, barely. When she slips it into the bag – awkwardly, from this angle, and what with the Brit practically pinning her in place – the usual rain of sparks follow. H.G. pulls back, a little – disoriented. For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then,  
  
“Well, if this is what happens when we work together, we should definitely do it more often,” H.G. says, leaning in before pushing off from the wall, and from Claudia – because they’re not the only ones in the gallery, and they’ve already drawn more than enough attention to themselves.


	3. Once Upon an Artifact - Myka/HG - G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: drabbletag 5 - sleeping beauty

Helena turned just in time to see Myka fall – watching her crumple to the floor; asleep and, despite Helena’s efforts to rouse her, determined to stay that way.   
  
It didn’t take long until she spotted the culprit. A wooden spindle, which, the more Helena looked at it, the more she felt compelled to reach out and touch it. She didn’t. But, judging by the pinprick-sized tear in Myka’s glove, her Sleeping Beauty obviously had.   
  
According to her knowledge, many fairytale artifacts couldn’t just be neutralized – they had to be played out.  
  
From what Helena recalled, the story involved a prince, a dragon, and the poor girl falling asleep for 100 years – but it had to be simpler than that. It was the kiss that mattered.   
  
Except that it had to be _True Love’s_ kiss.  
  
Yes, they were attracted to each other. They had their dance of glances and touches and suggestive remarks. But, simply fancying someone was far different from being their _soulmate_. And, what if she wasn’t?   
  
No, she had to at least try it, before jumping to horrible conclusions. So she did; lowering her lips to meet Myka’s. For a few heart-sinking moments, nothing happened. Finally, she felt Myka stir beneath her – kissing her back. Slowly and half-aware, at first. Then, deliberately.   
  
“Does this mean you’re my Prince Charming?” Myka teased.  
  
“I think it means we’re in love. Or, that the artifact just accepts _any_ kiss...” Helena added, hastily.   
  
“No. It’s the love-thing,” Myka assured, confident in it. 


End file.
